Laughter, Without Joy
by DrkKnght11
Summary: Set during the animated JLU Universe. It deals with the aftermath following Tim Drake's kidnapping by The Joker. It contains dialog from the movie Return of The Joker but excepting those passages all else is original. I own none of the characters.


**Laughter, Without Joy**

Diana landed gently, touching down on the soft grass that covered the grounds of the manor house.

The landscape was blanketed by the night sky and she was certain that the darkness would shield her arrival from any prying eyes, although she really didn't think that there would be any.

The house stood on acres of land and was set back from the only road providing access to the property. Coupling that with the tree line surrounding the property and the house was not easily glimpsed by the public.

As an added precaution she set herself down behind the large main house to shield her arrival.

Bruce Wayne was definitely a man who valued his privacy.

As she made her way to the house she replayed the events of the past few hours in her mind.

She had arrived at The Watchtower earlier that evening.

She had spent the past month away from Earth on the planet New Genesis helping to try and mediate peace talks and prevent potential civil war between two opposing factions.

At this point it was still uncertain if it would prove she had been successful or not. Then again right now she was too tired to even think about it anymore. All she wanted was a nice cup of tea, a hot shower and a good night's sleep in her own bed.

As she walked down the corridor to her quarters a familiar voice called out behind her.

She stopped and turned around in time to see a familiar scarlet blur zip down the hall and come to a stop directly in front of her.

"Hey welcome back Wondy!" he beamed, throwing his arms around her in a big hug, welcoming her home…or possibly just trying to cop a feel. She could never be entirely sure where he was concerned.

"Hi Flash" she said, smiling broadly at him.

"How did it go with the Hatfields and McCoys?" he asked.

She could only assume that he was referring to her negations and was attempting a joke by way of a cultural reference that meant nothing to her.

"Incredibly frustrating" she said, moving her hand back to rub the back of her neck.

"I swear right now I just feel like kicking something" she told him.

In response to her threat he took several steps back from her and dropped his hands in front of himself, shielding his groin in a mock protective gesture.

"Well ok" he said…feigning nervousness, "I just remembered I left some iced tea in the… microwave".

Diana giggled at his capering, which was an obvious attempt to cheer her up. It worked. Like usual.

"Sometimes I don't know what I'm going to do with you" she said smiling.

"Actually I've got a list back in my room. I've been working on it for awhile now" he replied.

"Good night Flash" she said laughing.

"Night" he replied and let her on her way only to zip around and get in front of her again a second later.

"Seriously, welcome back" he said and blew her a big kiss before speeding off down the corridor, probably towards the kitchen like usual.

She rolled her eyes and giggled a little in spite of herself.

The Flash was the youngest of them, at least of the original seven. He was in his late twenties but acted like a teenager.

His youthful exuberance and near constant irreverence was an endless source of irritation to some of the League members, especially The Batman.

Demonstrating an apparent lack of concern for his own safety he seemed to enjoy needling the dour vigilante.

She suspected that Flash was actually much more intelligent and capable than he pretended and secretly she found his antics adorable but she would never admit that to him.

When she got back to her quarters she sat on the bed and slid her boots off, wiggling her toes a little, enjoying the feeling of having them free of their confines.

She then removed the rest of her costume and headed straight for the shower.

Twenty minutes later she emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a towel and was just about to sit back on the bed to relax when she noticed the message light on her room's communication device was blinking.

The time and date stamp showed that the message had been left three days ago. She had been so tired and focused on a shower when she came in earlier she hadn't even noticed it.

She pressed the playback button and the message played through a small speaker on the wall plate of the device.

"Diana, it's Dick" came the familiar voice, "Listen when you get this message can you come to Bruce's place? There was…uh…an incident with The Joker. Tim's been hurt. He's…well…it's bad. Barbara already knows. She's here now. See you when you get here".

Immediately she felt the vice-like grip of fear tighten in her chest.

Her brain worked feverishly trying to imagine what could have possibly happened to him.

At thirteen years old there are so many things that can happen to an ordinary boy his age but when you add the fact that in addition to being a normal thirteen year old boy he's also Robin to Bruce's Batman the number of ways in which he could have been hurt spiral into the infinite.

Her first reaction was to call the manor house and find out what was going on but she really didn't know if she could stand hearing about it over the phone.

She just needed to get there, as quickly as possible.

She moved to her closet and grabbed a pair of corduroys and a turtleneck and struggled into the clothes.

She took no time to bother with her hair, which was tangled and wet, and simply pulled it into a ponytail.

She slipped her feet into a pair of flats and was out the door, bolting for the transporter platform as quickly as her legs would carry her.

Her mind came back to the present as she walked up the few steps to the door on the back of the house that led into the large sitting room.

One entire wall of the room was composed of massive windows which provided a view of the manicured grounds.

As she reached the door she looked through the windows into the room beyond and she could see Dick and Barbara sitting on one of the big overstuffed sofas.

Dick had his arm around Barbara and she had pressed herself against him with her head lying on his shoulder.

Under normal circumstances the scene would have looked very sweet but given the nature of Dick's message it only flooded her with a sense of dread.

She reached out and gently knocked at the door.

Dick turned around and looked in the direction of the sound.

Seeing Diana through the glass he whispered something to Barbara, leaned over and kissed her forehead and then got up and moved across the room to the door.

As he opened the door Diana stepped inside and Dick put his arms around in a welcoming but very brief hug.

"Hey Di" he said in a hushed voice, "Thanks for coming."

"Of course" she said, hugging him back. "I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner I was on New Genesis and I just got your message earlier this evening."

"Yeah I heard" he said, "That's ok".

She noticed that Barbara hadn't gotten up off the sofa to greet her. In fact she didn't even seem to be aware that Diana was there at all. She just sat on the sofa, unmoving, staring into space.

"Dick, what's going on?" she asked, concern evident on her face.

He put his arm on her back and steered her across the room looking back over his shoulder as if trying to make sure he was out of earshot of Barbara before continuing.

"I'm not even sure I know all of what happened" he said, "I wasn't there but from what I've been able to get from Barbara it seems Tim was out on patrol one night and somehow…we're still not sure exactly…Harley grabbed him".

"It took Bruce and Barbara three weeks to finally track him down and even then it was only because The Joker left a clue telling them that he was in the old building at Arkham.

"But I remember Bruce telling me that building was abandoned several years ago when Arkham opened its new Maximum Security facility." Diana said.

"It was" said Dick, "but it's still only partially demolished. They had been holding him there for weeks".

"But why?" she asked, "Why even take the risk? Why wouldn't they just kill him and dump the body somewhere? Nobody would have ever known what happened and he and Harley would have gotten away with it free and clear".

"You don't understand Di" Dick said. "He's not interested in getting away with it. He wanted Bruce to know he had done it. Killing Tim isn't what The Joker was after. That's too easy, it's too clean and it's much too quick. He doesn't just want to sneak up behind you and cut your throat. He wants to look you in the eye so he can watch your expression as he slowly slides the knife into your stomach and twists it."

Dick could see by the expression on Diana's face that she was still trying to digest everything he was telling her.

Diana's experience with The Joker had been limited at best.

She knew that Batman considered him the most dangerous of the criminals he'd faced, but never really understood why.

She had a terrible feeling that tonight she would be finding out.

She reached out and put her hand on Dick's arm while he spoke.

"They tortured him Di" Dick said, a haunted expression in place of his usual easy smile.

"Oh Blessed Apollo no!" she breathed; and her grip on Dick's arm tightened.

Dick wasn't looking at her anymore. He was gazing down at the floor.

"They did things to him that I…" he was struggling to get the words out.

He shook his head as if still trying to make sense of how something like this had happened and then lifted his head and returned his gaze to her.

"After all the time I spent with Bruce I thought I knew The Joker but even I never suspected the son of a bitch was capable of something like this. Barbara can barely sleep for more than an hour at a time without having nightmares. She's spent most of the past two days crying."

Diana's gaze never left Dick while he spoke, her eyes filled with both anger and horror at what he was telling her.

"The Joker tortured Tim for hours on end until Tim finally told him everything he wanted to know. He pried all of Bruce's secrets out of him, Bruce's identity…everything".

Diana swallowed barely able to believe what she was hearing.

"Once Tim was completely broken Joker pulled the ultimate prank by turning Tim into a miniature version of himself. He pumped Tim full of psychotropic drugs, carved up his face…" Dick trailed off, shaking his head again, "I'm not sure how much of his mind is even left. It's like he's just a blank slate".

"The sick bastard even filmed the whole thing just so he could make Bruce and Barbara watch it" said Dick, his voice rising for the first time during his recount of events.

"There was so much blood" said a small voice, from behind them.

Both Dick and Diana turned and noticed for the first time that Barbara was standing just a few feet away from them.

It seemed she had approached them sometime while Dick had been talking but her bare feet made no sound on the carpet and neither of them had heard her.

"His blood was everywhere" she said, remembering what she had seen in the film, her eyes beginning to well with tears.

"And he was screaming" she continued, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"He just kept screaming" she cried, her body now wracked with sobs.

Immediately Dick moved to her and put his arms around her, pulling her to him.

"Barbara…honey" he said, "It's gonna be alright. It's gonna be ok. I promise we'll get through this".

He picked Barbara up and carried her back to sofa.

He gently set her down on the cushions and again was whispering to her softly and kissing her forehead before returning to Diana.

Diana's vision blurred with tears at the sight of the young woman in such pain.

"Where was Tim taken?' she asked him.

"He's upstairs in his room. Alfred's with him" said Dick.

"Dick why is he here?" she asked in obvious surprise, "he should be in a hospital".

"Alfred has everything he needs up there for now" Dick replied, "I helped him bring what we needed up from the cave. I've already called Leslie Thompkins. She's gonna come in and see Tim so we can see what…if anything we can do to help him. In the meantime we were hoping familiar surroundings might do him some good".

"Bruce has never mentioned her" Diana said, "I thought Alfred always handled his medical needs".

"He does" replied Dick, "Leslie has a basic medical knowledge but she's a psychiatrist. She knows that Bruce is…well…she's family".

"Where IS Bruce?" she asked, suddenly realizing that he was nowhere to be seen.

"He's in the cave" Dick replied, "At least I think he is. He hasn't come up since we got home three days ago. He won't talk to anybody, he won't eat. He's just locked himself up down there".

Dick began to walk back over to sofa where Barbara was quietly crying now.

Diana followed him while they talked.

"Dick is it safe for any of you to be here" Diana questioned. "If The Joker knows about Bruce what will stop him from coming here to try and finish what he started?"

"He won't" Dick stated without any trace emotion in his voice, "He's dead".

Diana's mind reeled as she to grasp what she was hearing.

"You mean Bruce actually…" she started.

"No" Dick interrupted her thought, "It was Tim".

For several seconds she was stunned and she could only meet his statement with silence.

"But…how?" she asked.

"Joker gave Tim one those compressed air pistols that fires darts coated with that toxin he's so fond of. I'm guessing his plan had been having remade Tim in his own image that he would have Tim kill Bruce. It's just the kind of ugly symmetry that would appeal to him. As it turns out there was enough of Tim left in there somewhere that he turned the gun on The Joker instead".

He paused for a minute and took a breath and then continued, "Harley's gone too. Barbara was chasing her across the roof of the old building and Harley fell through a ruined section to the ground floor below".

Dick sat down next to Barbara and put his arms around her again.

She leaned in and buried her face in his shirt.

He lowered his face and kissed the top of her head and when he looked up again Diana could see that tears had begun to form and were threatening to overrun the corners of his eyes.

Sensing the two needed to be alone for awhile she said "I'm going to go up and look in on Tim if you don't mind".

"I really don't think you want to see him right now Di" Dick said.

"I just want to check in on him and make sure I can't do anything for Alfred" she told Dick, "I'll be ok".

Barbara had begun crying harder again and her body was trembling in Dick's arms.

Looking down at the woman pressed against him, falling to pieces he glanced back up at Diana and said "No you won't."

Diana ascended the grand staircase in the main hall and upon reaching the second floor turned left down the wide hallway towards Tim's room.

The dark wood paneling that covered the walls of the hall prevented much light from filling the space around her and kept the passage dimly lit.

Diana was not exactly a stranger to the manor and the second floor hallway that led to the bedrooms tended to be somewhat shadowy even in broad daylight she thought to herself.

With the exception of a few of the common areas of the home which were occasionally used for entertaining almost all the house seemed to be designed to obstruct the entrance of light.

Although not nearly as dark and foreboding as the cave below the house, apparently Bruce Wayne wasn't one who felt the need to explore varied styles of interior design.

The thick carpeting absorbed the sound of her footfalls and everything seemed eerily silent as she walked to the last door on the left of the long hallway.

She gently knocked on the door to Tim's room and then pushed it open slightly and looked inside.

A tableside lamp next to Tim's bed cast a slight, but warm glow around the room.

Alfred sat in an armchair that had been pulled up next to the bed and was turned facing the boy, holding one of Tim's hands in both of his own when he heard the knock and the sound of the door opening.

His face looked tired and strained but he brightened considerably at the sight of the visitor.

"Miss Diana how good of you to come" he said, rising to his feet.

He beckoned her to enter.

"Your presence is always most welcome" he continued, his affection for the woman clearly visible in his warm grey eyes.

He moved to usher her inside and she put her arms around him in a gentle hug, feeling him return it in kind.

"I had been away on League business" she told him, "I only got Dick's message earlier this evening. I came as soon as I heard".

He looked very tired she thought.

She wondered how much he had slept since Tim had been brought home.

Knowing Alfred as she did she surmised it probably wasn't much and as evidenced by the large afghan blanket folded neatly nearby she was also sure that when he did sleep he did so in the chair pulled next to Tim's bed so that he wouldn't have to leave the boy's side.

Staring at his tall, thin frame she thought that he had lost none of his bearing.

His jacket, vest and pants appeared perfectly crisped and creased, even in the midst of all of this he remained the picture of propriety.

She didn't know how he managed it but in all the years she had known the man she had never seen him appear to be anything other than at his absolute best.

"I'm so sorry Alfred" she said, the concern evident on her face.

"Yes" Alfred said, his face losing the warmth it had gained when he had noted her arrival, "Bad bit of business this. Dark times indeed".

"How is he doing?" she asked.

"As well as can be expected under the circumstances" he replied, "We've replaced as much of his blood as possible to flush the drugs from his system. He had a very high fever caused by his lacerations becoming septic. I cleaned and dressed his wounds and started him on antibiotics to fight off the infection and his fever is mostly gone now".

"The rest of the work is really out of my hands." he continued, "He'll need surgery to repair the damage to his face, several surgeries most likely and then of course Dr. Thompkins will do everything she can to try and heal the damage done to his mind".

"It's going to be quite a lengthy and unpleasant experience at best" he sighed, regret filling his voice. "I fear it's going to be very difficult and painful for the young lad. Not the kind of thing anyone should have to endure and certainly nothing that should ever happen to a child".

She squeezed Alfred's hand gently and moved to Tim's bedside.

She had only met Tim maybe a dozen times over the past two years but in that time she had become very taken with him.

It was hard not to be.

He was outgoing, friendly, intelligent, quick to joke and laugh and always eager to engage in conversation about what he and Batman were working on.

He was also not shy about pressing Diana for stories about The Justice League and would listen with rapt attention while she recounted them to him.

He would never come out and say it of course, no boy his age would, but it was obvious to Diana when she had spent time around them all how much he loved and respected Alfred and even more so how much he idolized Bruce; which is not to say that he didn't love to test their patience with practical jokes and occasional funny songs he would make up to sing at their expense.

He delighted in deviling them whenever he could.

In short he was a real charmer.

The sight that greeted her now broke her heart.

He looked very small and frail laying in the middle the large bed.

He was horribly pale and his arms bore multiple needle marks from where The Joker and administered his poisons.

What she could see of his arms and chest were covered with burn marks, evidence of the torture the young boy had endured.

Each corner of his mouth was covered with bandages that hid the marring wrought when The Joker had carved his terrible grin into him.

Alfred had repaired as much of the damage as he could but even now the gauze was reddened by the blood that seeped from the wounds underneath.

His eyes, wide and unblinking stared at the ceiling and he seemed completely unaware of his surroundings.

Touching him or speaking to him garnered no response from him at all. It was just as Dick had described to her. It was like Tim wasn't in there anywhere at all anymore. He was just a blank slate.

Diana felt her throat tighten and she didn't quite stifle a small sob that escaped her.

Tim had been so full of energy and happiness and just so utterly alive that seeing him now like this was overwhelming.

She could feel the outrage rising inside her over what had been done to this poor boy until she fairly boiled with it.

She knew if she were able that she would batter down the gates of Tartarus itself and find the monster responsible for this and drag him back into the land of the living where she would vent her fury on him until there was nothing of it left inside her.

Only then would she cast him back through the gates where he would burn for the rest of time.

She felt Alfred's hand rest on her and give her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"There, there Miss" he said, "We must do what we can to remain strong for him should he need us in any way".

"You're right of course" she replied "I'm sorry".

"Oh please Miss" he said, "No apologies required. I know it would mean a great deal to Master Tim that you're here, as it does to all of us."

She smiled in appreciation of his compliment but then said "Sometimes I think I'll never understand Man's World Alfred. How can they do these things to each other?"

"Unfortunately Miss Diana I long ago gave up trying to plumb the depths of man's inhumanity to man" he said.

"As for myself," Alfred continued, "I can only say this... When I finally go to my rest I know that I shall sleep easier with the knowledge that instead of Arkham Asylum, this odious creature who has taken so much from the family left in my charge will spend the rest of eternity someplace considerably warmer."

"Additionally it shall vex me until that same day that through any failure or shortcoming on my part in the performance of my duty that the fiend was better able to succeed in his loathsome machinations." he sighed, wearily.

Seeing the regret and self recrimination in the usually stoic grey eyes grieved Diana.

He's such a good man, Diana thought to herself. Of all the men she had met during her time in Man's World, and there had been so many more of merit and worth than she would have dared imagine when she left the island, Alfred was the closest to being called what she would consider noble.

It seemed as if he were ever present.

He was always there ready to serve, to provide assistance or comfort in whatever form it might take, whether it be a late night cup of tea and a sandwich, an alternate point of view on one of The Batman's innumerable investigations or words of encouragement to an Amazon princess who often felt adrift in a world she still struggled to come to grips with.

His entire life was providing for those he cared for, never asking for or expecting anything in return for all he did.

Knowing that this sweet man could even consider blaming himself in any way for the tragic events so recently befallen this house, pained her greatly.

"You can't possibly think like that." She told him, hugging him to her. "You have to know that nothing that happened was your fault in the slightest."

As if realizing his words had turned the attention of the moment on himself instead of those he served he immediately sought to correct the situation by patting Diana gently on the back as she hugged him.

"Come now" he said softly "no need to fret over the ramblings of an old man my dear. There are others who need your care far more than I".

As he pulled away from her she could see the kindness in his eyes and she actually managed a small smile for him.

Somehow he could always make her smile.

Being an Amazon she had never had a father and she wasn't even entirely certain she could understand what a father was or what it meant to have one but as she smiled at him she felt he was probably the closest thing to a father as she was likely to know.

It was easy to see why Bruce and the others were so devoted to him.

The thought of Bruce brought Diana back to reality.

"Dick said that Bruce has been locked in his cave ever since Tim was brought back" Diana said.

"Indeed yes" Alfred replied, "Not so much as word to anyone in the past three days".

"But how can he do that Alfred?" she asked, "How can he just lock himself down there and hide? Doesn't he know that he's needed here? Doesn't he know that all of you need him now?"

"Master Bruce has never dealt with grief very successfully Miss Diana" Alfred said, "Rather than leaning on others for support he locks himself away and punishes himself in solitude for what he perceives are his failures to protect those cares for. The irony that he's never been able to see is that pushing those same people away when they need him most is the manner in which he truly fails them."

"It's a lesson that despite my best efforts Master Bruce refuses to learn." Alfred said regrettably.

"Well" said Diana, pulling her hair out of its ponytail and letting the ebon tresses cascade down her back, "We'll see about that".

"If you'll excuse me Alfred?" she said giving his hand a small squeeze.

"Of course Miss" he replied, "And please don't hesitate to call on me should you need anything".

Alfred returned to the chair next to Tim's bedside and once again took the boy's hand in his own.

As he watched Diana step into the hall and shut the door behind her a small smile crept over his face.

"Good girl" he said, "Good girl."

Diana stood in the main hall of the manor and watched as the large grandfather clock lifted a few feet from its resting place on the floor and then swung outward revealing a single wide metal door recessed three feet into the wall behind it.

She stepped into the small alcove and put her hand on the lever that would open the door only to find that it didn't move under her grasp.

Locked, she realized.

Why did that not surprise her?

A locked door might serve to stop the rest of those in the house but she was something else entirely.

She again took the lever in her grasp and this time applied pressure until she was rewarded with loud crack and felt the lever instantly go slack in her hand.

She pushed on the door which still refused to yield and realized that while she had broken the locking mechanism, the bolts that held the door must still be in place.

Just another of his security measures, he does so love his redundancies.

Well she could provide an answer for this too.

She placed both her palms flat against the surface of the metal door and slowly began to push.

She eased more and more of her strength into the obstruction until she heard the creak and groan of metal as it strained against the housing on the other side.

Finally with a shuddering complaint the locks broke free and the door swung open revealing the ruined and distended metal behind the barrier.

She would apologize for the damage later but for now she was strangely gratified at being able to vent her frustration on a problem so easily conquered.

As she stepped beyond the boundary of the house and into the cave she heard the clock swing closed behind her and settle against the floor once more.

That at least would disguise the damage she had done and hide the entrance to the cave from the prying eyes of any visitors to the manor.

She stood for a minute to let her eyes adjust to the darkness and used that time to try and work out what she was going to say to him, if he would even listen.

No, he was going to listen she decided, whether he wanted to or not.

She would see to it that he did.

He was the most incredibly stubborn man she had ever met, there was no question, but she could be stubborn as well and just as obstinate.

She also had the benefit of hundreds of years of experience, which she felt gave her a clear advantage over him.

She descended the stairs into the cavernous darkness until she reached the main floor.

He was nowhere to be seen.

The cave was even darker than usual, the giant robotic dinosaur and the oversized penny that were part of the trophy displays were only marginally visible as shadows at the edge of her vision.

A wan glow emanated from the monitors of the computer bank, spilling a depressing glow into the somber surroundings but it did little to alleviate the inky blackness.

Diana moved to the wall of the cave, feeling her way past the cool, smooth shell of The Batmobile and probed with her fingers until she found the wall plate she was searching for.

A quick button press later and a series of lights set into the cave walls and ceiling flickered to life providing a welcome relief to the darkness.

Just because she could fly didn't mean she relished the thought of tumbling headfirst into one of the cave's many chasms as she navigated sightlessly.

Emboldened by the brightness she began to search in earnest now but still he was nowhere.

As if in answer to her silent question she heard faint sounds of muffled grunts coming from one of the smaller rooms off of the main cavern.

She made her way in their direction, the soft soles of her shoes treading silently on the floor.

It occurred to her that she was glad she had worn her flats because of the traction they provided her.

The hard soles and heels of her boots were hell on the slick, uneven surfaces of the cave floor and often times when she was in the cave in costume she would remove her boots entirely and go barefoot.

Walking around in bare feet was not entirely the image she wanted to project as Princess of Themyscira but then again it was preferable to that same princess falling flat on her face.

She passed the room that housed medical equipment and instruments of all kinds that served as Bruce's infirmary and surgery when required.

In fact Diana suspected that this may be the section of the cave which saw the most use.

She reached the room that contained weights and exercise equipment of every variety and it was here that she found him.

In this room the lights were on and it was actually relatively bright considering the rest of the cave.

Wearing only a pair of dark colored boxer/briefs, he had his back to her and he was sparring with a heavy bag.

Actually sparring was probably the wrong term.

He was punishing it.

A sharp grunt would issue from him each time one of his fists would slam into the bag.

He had secured it both from the ceiling and from the floor to prevent the bag from swinging under the force of his blows so that maximum resistance was provided with each connection of his fists against its bulk.

Bruce's mind swirled.

He had gone without sleep or food since returning home with Tim three days ago.

He no longer felt tired or hungry, it was as if his mind had disconnected from his body.

Everything was hazy.

He knew he wasn't thinking straight but he was beyond caring.

The only thing that managed to penetrate the fog that filled his brain was rage and he seethed with it.

Rage at The Joker for what he had done.

Rage at a society that continuously underestimated someone like The Joker and allowed him to escape over and over again.

Rage at Tim for having so carelessly walked into a trap despite having been warned every day to be careful and to always evaluate a situation before taking action.

Rage at himself above all else, and that was the real issue.

As angry as he was at everything else that helped to make up this tragedy he knew the real fault, the real failure lay on his head and his alone.

It may have been true that lax security had allowed The Joker to escape yet again and it may have been true that Tim was guilty of a little carelessness but none of them understood The Joker the way Bruce did.

None of them truly understood just how dangerous he was, nobody except Bruce.

For years Bruce had known that it was too dangerous to allow The Joker to live, that it was far too great a risk.

There had been no reason to allow him to survive.

He would never be rehabilitated; he would never become a productive member of society.

So many people practically salivated to get a chance to examine him whenever he would be caught; all of them brimming with the desire to be able to understand what could make a man capable of doing the things he did and thus how to correct his behavior.

They just didn't get it.

Even after he had so easily corrupted Harley none of them seemed to understand.

He wasn't a man. He was a monster, pure and simple; and there was no cure for evil.

Bruce had been the only one who understood and yet still he had done nothing.

He had allowed society to have him and treat him just like any other criminal.

Time and again he had hoped that things would be different, while knowing they wouldn't.

The Joker was a cancer from which there could be no remission. The only hope to save the world from his malignancy would be to have him surgically removed.

He knew this to be true as much as he knew anything and still he had refused to act.

All because of a standard he had set for himself so many years ago.

He had promised himself from the beginning that he would never take a life.

He would act as an instrument of justice and not revenge.

He would fight outside the law but not fight against it.

He would bend rules, sometimes drastically, but not break them.

Only then he felt could be assured that his cause was just and his mission was pure.

Now however, standing alone in the cave, while those who meant the most to him were shattered, possibly beyond repair, he actually saw his vow for what it was.

It was arrogance and cowardice.

It was arrogance to think that by refusing to cross certain lines and break certain rules that he was somehow setting himself above others and that he was in some way better and more morally just in his convictions.

It was cowardice that he had been aware of this for so long and had still refused to act on it knowing what horrible consequences might await.

By refusing to cross that line, the blood of every one of The Joker's victims was on The Batman's hands.

How many would have been saved if he had only done what he knew needed to be done, if he had crossed that line and borne the burden of compromise himself instead of foolishly hoping it would fall to someone else?

He had gotten his wish.

The burden was being carried by another.

Thanks to the unshakable righteousness of the legendary Batman it now rested on the shoulders of a thirteen year old boy.

He had never felt such complete failure before, not even able to protect those closest to him.

As he slammed his fists into the bag again The Joker's words swam to the top of his mind.

"You've lost Batman. Robin is mine" he sneered.

The Joker had beaten him completely, not just physically but intellectually.

Bruce had no extraordinary powers. His mind and his discipline were all that he had and he had always thought them more than enough to ensure victory.

The Batman was supposed to be more than just an urban boogeyman to scare people into being good.

He was supposed to be something that was undeniable and inescapable.

The Joker had showed him just how mistaken he really was.

Again The Joker's taunts echoed in his mind, "You're just a little boy in a play suit crying for mommy and daddy".

Again he pounded the bag and the leather creaked in protest under the blow.

He imagined unleashing all his anger on the leering psychopath.

He remembered having his hand around The Joker's throat wanting to crush his windpipe and silence the mocking laughter forever.

"I'll break you in two" Batman had spat at him.

"If you had the guts for that kind of fun you'd have done it years ago" The Joker had accused, before plunging a knife deep into Batman's left leg just above the knee.

He remembered later looking at the lifeless body of his foe lying face down on the ground while the sound of Tim's manic giggles slowly gave way to piteous sobbing... laughter, without joy.

He remembered leaving Barbara and Tim with The Batmobile and forbidding her to follow him as he dug a hole in the garden of the partially demolished asylum.

He remembered hoisting The Joker's corpse to throw him into the freshly dug earth as his earlier invective echoed in his ears again…"I'll break you in two".

With anger welling over inside him Batman brought the villain's body down hard across his knee and heard a distinct crack as the body's spine fractured.

He repeated the motion again with every bit of hatred he could summon and this time he both heard and felt the rest of the spine surrender and break.

He threw the ruined body unceremoniously into the open pit and grabbed the shovel.

Just before he threw the first of the recently turned earth into the grave he straightened himself and spat on the corpse.

It was no more a sanctified burial than this creature deserved.

For several moments Diana watched his assault on the unfortunate training equipment.

A sheen of perspiration blanketed his body and accentuated the definition of compact muscle that made up his mass.

The surface of the bag he was unleashing his anger on was covered with smears of blood from his battered fists and knuckles.

The scarlet liquid rolled slowly down the length of the bag and a few drops lay spattered on the floor.

The expanse of his back and the length of his arms and legs were marred by the puckered skin of gunshots and stab wounds from past encounters as well as long jagged scars from knives and shrapnel.

There were even a few burn scars just for good measure.

Diana remembered the first time she had seen him in a state of undress in the medical bay on The Watchtower.

He had been wounded while keeping a nuclear warhead from detonating on the island of San Baquero.

The Javelin he was piloting had crashed into the ocean and he been rushed to the tower in critical condition.

Once there, the martian had stripped Bruce's costume off of him while administering medical attention.

What Diana had seen made her breath catch in her throat.

In addition to the fresh injuries sustained that day his body was a history written in scar tissue.

It had been a sobering reminder that not all of them were bullet proof.

"Bruce?" she said.

He continued pummeling the bag as if unaware of her presence.

She was certain he knew she was there. She had seen his shoulders tense slightly at the sound of her voice and more than that, he was The Batman.

The Batman always knew you were there.

Frankly she had always found that somewhat annoying.

"Bruce" she repeated when he didn't turn around.

"Why are you here Diana?" he asked, still focusing on the bag.

"How can you even ask me that?" she said, incredulously, "How could I not be here?"

"I came to see Tim and Dick and Barbara and Alfred and"

"Then you should be in the house" he interrupted.

"And I also came to see you" she continued quietly.

"I'm fine" he said simply, still refusing to face her.

"Oh yes clearly." She responded.

Seeing that he was going to make no effort to respond further she spoke again.

"Bruce talk to me" she continued.

"Get out." he said tersely, "Now."

"I'm not going anywhere." She countered.

"I said GET OUT!" he screamed.

It wasn't often that Diana heard him raise his voice at all. He usually spoke in a low controlled manner that while exuding confidence and self assurance she also found oddly rather pleasant.

When he did scream it came out as almost a kind of a roar, something that would seem much more likely to be uttered by beast than man.

It was shocking and though she actually felt a momentary twinge of panic in her stomach, she overcame the natural instinct to flee and steeled herself.

She was Diana, Princess of Themyscira, only daughter of Queen Hippolyta and fierce warrior of the Amazons.

She would not be ignored. Not by any man. Not even him.

"You will not address me in that fashion!" she said, her voice rife with its royal birth "Do not allow familiarity to dull your memory as to exactly what and who I am!"

She was standing directly behind him now.

"And you will face me when I speak to you!" she commanded.

She reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder and feeling him tense again she forcibly spun him around.

What she saw made her gasp slightly.

He looked horrible.

He was sallow and gaunt.

His face was sporting three days worth of beard growth.

His hair was unkempt and matted with sweat.

His body was covered with tiny droplets of blood that had splattered back onto him in response to the impact of his fists on the heavy bag.

His left leg was wrapped in a thick layer of bandages that held several large gauze pads to a wound she couldn't see.

Thin rivulets of blood traveled from under the gauze, down his leg to his foot.

It seemed that whatever Bruce had allowed Alfred to do in the way of closing the wound, if in fact he had allowed Alfred to do anything, had been undone and the wound was bleeding again.

Worst of all were his eyes.

They were usually bright and steely, always alive and full of activity.

One had only to look into them to know that whatever the problem was, whatever obstacle that needed to be overcome, that he was devoting his entire mind to it and that sooner or later he would find a way to claim victory.

Diana saw none of these things in his eyes now.

They seemed utterly dead and empty.

She saw only despair and defeat.

Her heart sank to see him like this, looking so completely beaten.

Her anger began to fade and she wanted more than anything to be able to comfort him.

"Oh Bruce…" she said softly and reached for him.

He jerked away from the contact before her hand could reach him.

"Why are you doing this?" she entreated him.

"I don't need help" he countered, "not from any of you!"

"You arrogant ass!" she said becoming angry again, "This isn't just about you!"

"Did it ever occur to you we might need your help, Tim, Dick, Barbara, Alfred, me? All of us?"

"Did you stop to think that we might need you to get through this?" she went on, "To tell us that it's going to be ok?"

"It's not ok" he stated flatly.

"Not now, no" she said, "But someday, even if things are never the same, they can get better but you have to be willing to try."

"It doesn't make any difference what I do anymore" he responded.

"That's nothing but an excuse" she countered "and a poor one that. I would have thought that was beneath you."

"Is that something you lean on because you just don't want to try, because you think the rest of us aren't worth the effort?" she argued.

Because that's certainly what it looks like to me" she went on.

"Or is it more than that? She probed, "Is it not that you don't want to try but you're afraid to try? Could it be that the Legendary Batman, The Dark Knight of Gotham is nothing more than a coward?"

Bruce's entire body bristled.

He moved quickly in Diana's direction.

She saw his lips draw back and he was baring his teeth and what's more his eyes were actually alive again. She could clearly see the fury that burned in them.

She had definitely struck a nerve.

For a moment she actually thought he might strike her but he grabbed her wrist and began to physically move her backwards as if to push her out of the cave.

Anger sparked within her at the unwanted contact.

She would not be laid hands upon in this manner.

She tore her wrist from his grasp and shoved him backwards with a little more force than she had meant.

Her strength sent him skidding several feet back where his back collided with the wall of the cave before the force of the impact pushed him forward again and he dropped to his knees on the floor.

For a moment he was motionless and then his entire body seemed to grow rigid and he threw his head back and screamed.

It was terrible to hear.

All of his rage, despair, doubt, defeat and self recrimination were vented at the heavens.

It was almost soul-shattering to witness Diana thought, realizing the amount of pain he was in and how deeply his wounds ran.

Afterwards, his head dropped forward onto his chest and it was as if his last bit of strength had left him.

His shoulders drooped and his whole body looked limp and drained.

Her anger dissipated as quickly as it had flared and she immediately went to her knees beside him and wrapped her arms around him.

He didn't return her embrace. He didn't seem able to. He just stayed exactly like he was while she held him.

Finally he said weakly, "It's my fault, all of it".

"What are you talking about?" she asked softly.

"I knew what he was for years and I never did anything to stop him" he replied.

"Think about what you're saying" she replied, "You did everything you could to stop him".

"Not everything" he said, bitterly.

She knew exactly what he was inferring and said "That's not even an option. You know it's not".

"But it was." he went on, "It was just an option that was I was too weak to exercise".

"Weak?" she replied, "Think about what you're saying. It's not weakness to hold yourself to a higher standard, to take the harder path than those you stand against, even though you know doing so might well get you killed. Never compromising your principles, that's true strength".

"Then I should have found another way to stop him. I should have worked harder, I should have looked harder. Somewhere I missed something that let him continuously slip away." He said regretfully.

"You can't think that." she told him, "It's the system that's broken, it's not you".

"You didn't let him go, he escaped" she went on, "Sometimes no matter what we do it happens. It's bad and we wish it wouldn't happen but it does. That doesn't mean we give up and we stop trying".

"I've never known you to give up on anything" she continued, "You're the most dogged, relentless, determined man I've ever met."

"Not to mention the most stubborn and the most pig-headed" she added, a trace of lightness creeping into her voice.

"I think sometimes it's easier for the rest of us" she said, "I mean for Clark, me and the rest. All of us have gifts that like it or not we've learned to depend on, but not you. Everything you are is something that you earned with years of work and practice and study".

"Bruce you're the strongest man I've ever known" she told him, "You're not who are because of a yellow sun or enchanted bracelets. You're a product of sheer force of will. You've made yourself a hero because you simply refuse to accept defeat."

She took his chin in her hand and raised his face so that she could look into his eyes.

"You've never allowed yourself to be beaten before." she said softly, "Don't start now."

"I know you think he's won but he hasn't" she continued, "Things are bad, yes, but you're all alive, you're all together. You have to believe that Tim can get better with time and that life will go on."

"The Joker is gone now" she said, still looking in Bruce's eyes, "He can't ever hurt anyone again. Don't let your family fall apart now that he's finally just a bad memory. Don't lose the people who care for you."

"Do you understand?" she asked him, "Don't give him one last victory".

Staring into his eyes she thought she saw, just for a second, a flicker of the man she loved.

He stared back at her and for a moment she wasn't sure he would speak.

He started to say something only to stop before finally saying "Thank you".

Her arms slid around his neck and she leaned in and brushed his lips with hers and then let it linger into a soft kiss.

She pulled her face away and looked into his eyes again to see him staring back at her.

He gazed at her for another moment and she wondered what was going through that mind of his.

Just when she was about to ask he finally spoke up.

"Pig-headed?" he asked, without a trace of expression on his features.

She felt her heart lift a little and she smiled broadly at him.

He leaned forward and put his hands on the sides of her face, returning her kiss.

Just for a moment everything else fell away.

All the heartache, pain, doubt and self loathing, all of it was gone and there was only her.

She was sweetness and hope, and that was something very foreign to him that he wasn't sure he could understand but at the same time he found himself taking strength from it.

"Ok" she said finally, helping him to his feet, "Let's get you cleaned up and get you to bed".

Rather than the stairs they took the service elevator up to the main floor of the house.

It was what Alfred used to deliver food to the cave since that was where Bruce ate most of his meals anyway.

It was accessed through a hidden entrance in the back of the pantry in the kitchen.

Once in the kitchen where there was more light Diana checked the wound on Bruce's leg which turned out to be very deep, from where The Joker had plunged a knife into him during their struggle.

Fortunately the wound, which had been stitched after all, had not reopened.

It had merely begun to seep severely due to Bruce's elevated blood pressure from his exertions and refusal to stay off of it while in the cave.

She would clean it and change the dressing and that should stop the bleeding. If he was lucky he wouldn't have any lasting stiffness or soreness.

Holding on to Diana's arm for support they walked slowly into the sitting room to find Dick and Barbara still on the sofa wrapped in one another's comfort.

At the sound of his approach they both turned and looked at him.

"We'll get together sometime tomorrow to figure out what we need to do to get through this" he told them both, "I know it won't be easy but we'll find a way to make it work".

He squeezed Barbara's shoulder in a gesture of support and she gave him a small smile in response to his contact.

Dick's eyes met Bruce's and Bruce gave him a little nod which Dick returned.

It was Bruce's way of apologizing and it was Dick's way of accepting it.

It was a small gesture and there were no words spoken but sometimes words weren't necessary between fathers and sons.

Taking Diana's arm once more they took the main elevator to the second floor and made their way down the wide hallway to Bruce's bedroom at the end.

He stopped before reaching the door and turned towards Tim's room.

"I should go in and see him." he told Diana.

She nodded and let go of his arm.

He took a few unsteady steps and opened the door.

As he stepped inside Diana heard Alfred say "Welcome back Master Bruce".

And then Bruce's reply followed, "Hi old man".


End file.
